


Breathing Distance

by jade_lil



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Angst, Arashi - Freeform, Fanfiction, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-14 19:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1277578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jade_lil/pseuds/jade_lil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the prompt: : Ohno realized that all the songs Nino wrote were for him. He’s afraid of the fans’ reactions so he distances himself from Nino. Nino understands this and leaves him his space but when Ohno shows up at his door shaking, all the emotions spill out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [renchan27](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=renchan27), [carey_chan](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=carey_chan), [sweetspicyhot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetspicyhot/gifts), [Gambitsfox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gambitsfox/gifts).



> and here is the 3rd one! :D

Ohno stares at the composition book in his hand like he’d rather have them anywhere than here, blinking rapidly as if by doing that he could be able to un-see the words he’s read, un-discover the feelings he didn’t know (or honestly simply chose to ignore) existed. 

It doesn’t go away even after his lame attempt at convincing himself that the name scrawled carefully on the bottom of each page, along with two or three paragraphs of unbidden thoughts and reasons describing the words above refers to another person altogether, because really, Satoshi Ohno is a common name nowadays, isn’t it? 

Right. Just that -- 

 _There’s a mark peeking from underneath Oh-chan’s shirt, just above his right collarbone. It’s reddish, almost purplish in color and I suspect there are more of them, scattered and hidden beneath that stupid, round-necked black shirt Oh-chan always wears on Mondays. It’s not even Monday today, but Friday and – damn it, I know I’m not supposed to be looking. I don’t even have any right to feel this way but I can’t fucking help it. Oh-chan probably spent the entire night fucking some faceless person, allowing that person to mark him as if she owns him – while I am here, sitting right next to him, and writing a fucking song about it. Fuck._  

Oh-chan. 

As far as he could tell, the only Oh-chan around here is him, not to mention the only guy who came one time at work battered with marks and hickeys from his previous night’s adventure with his favorite girls in Shibuya. 

He feels like slapping himself on the face repeatedly, as if it would make all of these confusing feelings go away. 

He knows that he’s not meant to read any of it, that giving it back to Nino first thing upon finding it is the right way to go but since he’s nothing but a certified idiot – instead of doing the right thing, he did the opposite. 

“Damn it,” he mutters, knows that his fingers are shaking despite the effort he’s putting up not to let this particular knowledge bother him, but. “Damn, damn, _damn it_ ,” 

“I’m pretty sure I left it here somewhere,” Nino’s voice echoes from somewhere and he freezes, hands still gripping Nino’s composition book, his brain rapidly losing its intended function as Nino’s voice draws nearer. He has to move, like, now, but his limbs feel like they’ve suddenly turned into lead, like something so heavy is suddenly wrapped around him that even the simple thing as turning around proves to be difficult. “Ah, Leader, you’re still here? I thought you already left,” 

He says nothing, feels the prickle of something unfamiliar at the back of his neck at the sound of Nino’s footsteps. “What are you still doing here anyway?” 

He doesn’t answer, couldn’t force his tongue to say something as Nino rounded the way to his left, still mostly occupied at looking around for something that has been on Ohno’s hands all along. “Ohno-san, did you happen to see the book I brought in with me this morning?” Nino inquires, clueless, and Ohno feels like his heart is trying to beat its way out of his chest with the way it is behaving. He wants to run, he wants to ask Nino a lot of things but he couldn’t. “The one you saw me writing _some_ – oh,” Nino pauses, and then everything around them slows down, like someone hitting the pause button at the same time. 

His next heartbeat comes in a moment later, probably a moment too long, and his body is moving before his mind even registers the action. 

He swivels around and doesn’t bother handing the book properly to Nino and just drops it at the nearest available surface, heads straight to the door so quickly as if the devil himself is after him, and completely misses the way Nino’s face pales as he walks past Nino without looking back.

 

+++

 

It is rare for him to be spending his off days at home, and even rarer to spend it crouched in front of his CD player, listening to Arashi’s songs -- or more particularly, listening to Nino’s solo songs instead of spending his whole day out on the sea the way he normally does when he don’t have to be anywhere for work. 

He couldn’t, because the moment he left Nino behind that day, the knowledge about the truth behind Nino’s songs follows him everywhere. It’s there when he closes his eyes, when he tries to pick up his pencil to draw, when he tries to bury his face on his script which, to his utter frustration always ends up thrown carelessly aside because he realized halfway that he hadn’t even memorized a single line even after going through the same page for the last half hour. 

He couldn’t function properly and it’s all because he keeps seeing the words written on Nino’s composition book so clearly, as if they’ve been practically engraved at the back of his eyelids the moment he’d read them. 

He realizes he has pressed PLAY again when the familiar intro comes up again, groaning at the fact that he could actually imagine Nino playing the song on the piano himself, the very image of Nino’s talented hands as they work on the piano keys is enough to distract him from whatever it is he ought to be doing. 

It’s frustrating, really, and the fact that he’s stupidly analyzing each of Nino’s songs like a goddamn critic when he couldn’t even be bothered to listen to his own solo songs unless he has to perform it on stage for a live concert, or listen to the other members’ solo songs for that matter is – undeniably stupid, really. 

Hell, he doesn’t even listen to Arashi’s songs that much either, only memorizing the ones included on the final setlists when Jun handed them the lineup of songs for each venue, along with the few song selections which he needs to choreograph himself. And here he is, nose buried into his sofa cushion and wondering what in hell is wrong with the world and why the hell this had to happen now. 

Well, he wouldn’t deny the fact that he used to wonder about Nino a lot – back in the days when they were younger, when the comforting familiarity between him and Nino is just that – familiar and comforting – and when exactly it became something else entirely. At least that’s what he knows, because somewhere along the way, something really did change. The dynamics between them mostly stayed the same, because hell, they are both professionals and dealing with those emotional shits should be done outside of work (though they never managed to), but for the most part, he is sure something was amiss. Like someone pointedly did something to shake the very foundations of his and Nino’s friendship a little bit, until he’s no longer aware that he’s the only one thinking that things are the same, when obviously, they’re not. 

It must be the way Nino looks his ways sometimes, the way his stares linger when Nino thinks he’s not aware that Nino is actually staring. Or those lingering touches that mostly meant nothing to him before, and then finding himself thinking about them more when he realizes he is looking at Nino’s face and wondering why his hands are cold when they’re touching him, and why Nino has that frown on his face when he unconsciously flinches back. 

It’s confusing, really, but he learned to live with it knowing that there’s nothing good to gain in pondering over things that he couldn’t change, anyway; he learned to avert his eyes and look the other way when Nino’s stares became too much, learned how to close his mouth and bite his tongue when words threatened to spill out from his lips because he knew that _he_ shouldn’t – _they_ shouldn’t – they are not allowed to. 

He’s up to listening to Niji again, closing his eyes as Nino sings about overlapping shadows and apologies, and something in his chest rattles at the raw intensity of Nino’s voice as Nino sings the words he’s only able to realize the meaning behind a few days ago. He realizes he’s watching out for those little quivers he doesn’t pay attention to before, those little hitches in Nino’s voice that tugs painfully at his heartstrings in ways he never thought possible as if it’s the first time he hears Nino sings.

 

_When I say “I’m sorry”_

_And “Then come over here”_

_Hey, look, look_

_Our shadows are overlapping._

_Your gentle smile_

_This time, this space_

_They’re so important to me_

_That I could start to cry._

_I’m pursing my lips on purpose_

_Without waiting for a response to my apology_

_I softly kissed you._

 

He blinks, fingers reaching up to touch his face, the warm dampness making its way down his cheeks and realizes that the whiteness clouding his vision doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that he’s kept his face buried against the cushion for far too long. 

He knows, but he doesn’t want to admit it. 

Not because he doesn’t have any reason to.

 

+++

 

To his credit, Nino doesn’t seem too shocked to realize that he chooses to distance himself (at least when they’re the company of each other back in the dressing room and not in front of the cameras) from the younger man instead of collaring Nino and demanding him for an explanation at the very first chance he gets the next time they see each other. The others might have noticed the distant look on his face, the way he forced himself to space out more than usual just so nobody will ask. 

It’s easier that way, he thinks, because talking is for people who have things to settle, and he and Nino _don’t_ – it’s that simple. What he discovers is something of the past and is obviously not meant to be let out in the open, something he doesn’t need to bother himself with when Nino doesn’t either. 

It’s obvious that Nino is aware about the limitations, about the set of rules they sworn to follow and has always been pointed out to them on every renewal of their contracts, and those other details that he swears he doesn’t give one shit about before all these. 

“Arashi-san, five minutes,” Aiba-chan’s PA pokes her head in the room and holds out her fingers, and the lot of them looks up from their respective seats. To his right, Jun stretches his limbs he almost punches Sho in the jaw, and to his left, Aiba yawns loud enough to wake the dead. 

He doesn’t dare check out what Nino is doing. He could already feel his eyes on him since he came in that morning, anyway, and he doesn’t need to be reminded of the things he’s trying his hardest to avoid. 

He stands up and shakes himself out of his forced daze he personally put himself into these past few days, taking the first few tentative steps towards the door, the others following closely.

 

+++

 

He finds himself in one of the bars he used to frequent when he was younger, knows that even though he unconsciously just ended up here (because bar-hopping also found its way into the forbidden clause of their contracts, though it’s not like the fact that it is not allowed has stopped him from still going anyway) his mind is made up with all the intention of getting himself mindlessly drunk. 

He ordered a bottle of beer for starters, not even daring to look around in fear of finding those familiar faces he used to see around here; well, the chances of that is pretty low, since he’s here sitting alone inside the privacy of this bar’s VIP cubicle, nursing his half-full beer and listening to the bar’s live performer of the night.

Only to find himself gaping at his beer and the table before him when he realized what the asshole is singing – his very own rendition of Nino’s Doko Ni Demo Aru Uta.

 

_What is right, what is wrong?_

_So I said, “It’s okay,”_

_Those words were erasing myself_

_That was what I was most afraid of_

_Yell with all your might, “I’m here!”_

_Like it’s proof of yourself_

_We are not that weak, But we’re not that strong either_

_That’s why it’s okay to cry_

_There’s nothing to be embarrassed about_

_Only people who have a tomorrow can do it_

_Because it’s a signal of going to that tomorrow_

_Crying. Searching. Falling down. Crying again._

_That’s how you become an adult._

_Afraid of getting hurt._

_If I always try not to cry, I’ll stop laughing._

_When I realized I was alone, I was scared_

_That’s when your voice came, so gentle it hurt_

_If I cry, then you’ll say, “You’re a crybaby”_

_When I tried to say, “You too,”  I relaxed and laughed._  

He groans, sputters a curse to no one in particular because it’s just so unfair. The world clearly is out to get him today, or actually everyday since he stupidly opened Nino’s composition book and read what he’s not supposed to. 

It doesn’t matter that the performer’s voice lacks the emotions Nino usually puts in his songs when he’s the one singing them, doesn’t matter that he’s out here trying to avoid thinking of the things he’s successfully avoided for the past few days because he knows that sooner or later, something’s got to give. 

He just didn’t expect it’d be him. 

“Fuck this,” he mutters, and that’s that, standing up and slapping a few bills on the table and letting himself out before he changes his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday, renchan27 BB!

In all honesty, ending up outside the door to Nino’s apartment probably isn’t the brightest idea he’s ever thought of but its close – at least when it struck him back there in the bar and that out-of-tune asshole was in the middle of performing Nino’s song. But now, he’s not that sure anymore.   
  
Most especially after about his tenth attempt at knocking on the door and failing, and the beauty of the idea itself is fading every damn second he spends standing there, contemplating between knocking and leaving as fast as his two feet would allow him away from Nino’s place.  
  
But it’s now or never, because once he tiptoes back to where he came from and leave without getting the answers (he has all the right to know anyway) he came here for, there’s no way he and Nino would be able to look each other in the eye and tell themselves that they are still the same Ohno and Nino that they used to be before all these, and he knows it perfectly well.    
  
It’s either this or choose the easier way out, the one where the both of them would try to go on pretending nothing’s wrong, while praying that he and Nino could work together without compromising the group as a whole with all the emotional baggage they obviously chose to carry around on their backs instead of simply manning up and  _talk._  
  
Well, it goes without saying that things like these are easier said than done, closing his eyes and letting this huge, unsettling urge to know the answers to all these confusing questions propel him to move forward, to aim a fist against Nino’s door and knock. He’s trembling but he doesn’t let it stop him, growing increasingly annoyed when his knuckles start to feel a little swollen and yet the door in front of him remained tightly shut.  
  
It just occur to him that maybe, possibly, perhaps, he should have thought of calling Nino first and made sure Nino is home before he –  
  
The door opens with an almost cruel-sounding swish, dangerously close to hitting him on the face and Nino showing up from behind it, arms hugging himself and looking equally confuse, if not a touch annoyed. Nino’s wearing the rattiest pair of pajamas he’s ever seen in his life (and he is sure he owns just a couple of ratty pairs himself), hair sticking up in all directions and squinting at him through his glasses.  
  
“L-Leader?” Nino drawls, sounding sleep-deprived and all kinds of adorable, and his brain nearly shuts down on itself when Nino blinks and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “What the hell are you doing here? It’s like, what, almost two in the morning,” Nino says, looking part-surprised and part-annoyed, but he chose to ignore the fact that Nino looks about ten seconds away from either strangling him or shutting the door to his face because he has more important things to think about than that.  
  
Like, how in hell he should start firing the questions he came here for when all he could think about is how Nino’s pale collarbones peek out from beneath his loose pajama top or the way Nino unconsciously keeps pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose like an old, but freakishly sexy man. Damn. It.  
  
“Aren’t you supposed to be home and, you know, sleeping?” Nino continues, brows furrowed; “Like what I was doing before you started pounding on my poor, defenseless door?” Nino says, leaning back against the doorframe, squints at him through his reading glasses, looking pointedly annoyed; he also looks annoyed enough to keep his uninvited guest outside with the way he’s blocking the doorway like that instead of inviting him inside so they could talk in private.   
  
Not that he’s expecting to be let in, but.  
  
Very well then, if that’s how Nino wants it, fine. “I want you to tell me what the hell’s up with those songs you wrote,” he starts, partly grateful that he’s managed to keep his voice from quivering even though the rest of him is shaking. He looks up to watch Nino’s face closely and wonders if the slight widening of Nino’s eyes means that he’s right off the bat. “And if it is true that you wrote them for me,”  
  
The silence is deafening but at least it gives him the advantage to watch the little changes on Nino’s expressions closely, the subtle way Nino shifts his weight to his other foot as if he’s weighing his options quietly.   
  
To his utter disappointment, a few minutes has gone by and Nino still hasn’t said anything; he’s just staring at him like he’s thinking, but he’s pretty sure Nino just opened his mouth and then closes it again, as if he was about to say something but thought better of it as he immediately purses his lips together and leans his body firmly against the doorframe instead.  
  
He wonders why it suddenly feels like he’s been shut down before he even started, as if the stiff curve on Nino’s shoulders should be reason enough to mutter his excuse and leave, but he knows his pride wouldn’t let him hear the end of this. It annoys him even more when Nino’s expression suddenly changes, from vaguely annoyed to disinterested while he lets out little exasperated sighs every now and then.  
  
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” he prods angrily, though he doesn’t really understand why; it’s not like he came here to pick a fight, but just seeing the uncaring way Nino is looking back at him, it is actually a bit hard to swallow his irritation down. Nino knows him too well to make such faces when he’s already riled up to his limit, enough to want to start throwing punches around, but damn, would he really go through such trouble as punching his bandmate in the face just because he’s too pissed he couldn’t even think straight?    
  
It’s not like he wants this, because as much as he hates complications, he also doesn’t do well with arguing with people he cares about. But it’s a little hard to keep his temper in check when Nino is being needlessly difficult, keeping his mouth shut instead of answering the goddamn questions that’s been making him crazy in the head for the past few days now.   
  
He honestly feels a little homicidal by the time Nino finally looks him in the eye and sighs.  
  
“What would you want me to say?” Nino says, sounding tired. “I’m not the one who came knocking into someone else’s door at crap o’clock in the goddamn morning demanding to talk,”  
  
“I didn’t come here to talk,” he ground out, “I came here to get some answers,” he says, suddenly feeling a lot stupid than he knows he already is.  
  
Nino bristles. “That’s the same thing, isn’t it?” Nino says, looking slightly incredulous. “and besides, if you want answers, how are you so sure that I can give them to you?”   
  
He blinks, feels his annoyance prickles hotly up his spine. “Because it’s your damn fault I’m out here at two o’clock in the goddamn morning chasing answers to questions I don’t even have to ask if it weren’t for that goddamn book of yours!” he half-yells, amazed that he could still control his voice despite the fact that he’s practically boiling in anger right now. Damn it, does Nino really have to ask? It doesn’t help that Nino looks particularly unaffected by the fact that they are stupidly arguing outside his apartment door and that any moment now, someone could suddenly come out and find them.   
  
But if Nino’s not worried, then why should he?  
  
“How the hell does this become my fault now?” Nino sputters, but he’s laughing mirthlessly as if he couldn’t believe what he’s hearing, along with the incredulity of the whole situation, of being woken up in the middle of the night only to be asked answers to stupid, stupid questions. It doesn’t matter now though, because Nino seems worked up enough to scowl back at him as he hisses, “I was not the one who’s gone snooping into other’s people’s business, enough to see something I’m not supposed to see, that’s you!  _You_  did that to yourself, so don’t go around blaming other people for something you yourself did just because you found out something you’re not supposed to find out. There’s a reason people keeps secrets, you know? I’m sure you are perfectly aware about that fact, too,” Nino mockingly tells him, taunting him even more as if he’s not taunted enough.  
  
His eyes narrow and he has trouble keeping track of the words leaving Nino’s mouth but he has a pretty good sense of knowing exactly where this is going, and he doesn’t think he likes it even one bit. They’re going to end up fighting and he doesn’t have any idea why that thought alone is enough to make him want to take a step back, apologize to Nino and leave.  
  
But there’s no way to do that now, is there?  
  
“Okay, so maybe it’s partly my fault for bringing my composition book at work with me,” Nino backtracks, toning the pitch of his voice down a little bit, and he’s honestly a little stunned when Nino shakes his head as if he couldn’t believe he’s talking either.  “but that’s just because the only time I’m able to work on the song I’m currently writing is by doing it in between shooting breaks, which I am also sure that you are aware of because I remember telling you about it when you asked me why I was carrying that stupid thing around with me lately. So  I might have left it lying in the dressing room floor, or wherever it ended up when I threw it before I went ahead for my turn for that scheduled interview that day, but hell, that’s not reason enough for anyone, most of all you, to snoop around checking my stuffs when I’m not looking!”   
  
He gapes for about a whole minute before his blood rushes to his head and he realized he is spouting nonsense things and denying what is already obvious. “I was not snooping around your stuffs!” he counters, baring his teeth angrily. “It just happened that it was there and – and –“  
  
“It just happened to be there and you got curious?” Nino cuts him off, his tone mocking; “Why, that’s new. I’ve been carrying that composition book with me for years but none of you paid attention to it. And well, it should have been pretty obvious that that book is off-limits to anyone aside from its owner, and I was pretty sure you guys were aware about that fact, too. Why bother check it out that day, Leader, when you could have done that years before? Tell me, because I also want to know exactly what is going on in that head of yours, and really, I’m at a loss here…” Nino pauses here, breathes in a lungful of air and aims another thoughtful glare his way. “So, let’s see, I left that book lying carelessly there -- which I’m pretty sure was not the case because I remember shoving it back inside my work bag before I left, but okay, let’s pretend that I didn’t do any of that and that I left the stupid thing lying around our shared dressing room and then  _you_  saw it,  _you_  got curious – you picked it up, wondering what shit I was working on but saw something else you didn’t expect to see instead, is that right?” Nino doesn’t wait for him to answer though, not that he’s inclined to answer anyway because he’s pretty sure Nino’s not going to let him even if he try.   
  
“Days passed and you still couldn’t seem to get those things out of your head no matter how hard you tried to avoid  _it_ , no matter how hard you tried to avoid  _me_  – way I see it, you’re looking for someone to confirm what you obviously know already,” Nino says coldly. “Now what I want to know is why it is my fucking fault why you’re here at two o’clock in the goddamn morning demanding me for answers you don’t even have any fucking right to ask. Why is it that  _you_ , the person who invades  _my_  privacy, is the one who looks batshit upset about the things you learned when it should be the opposite? Fucking tell me, Leader, because I can’t fucking see one good reason why I should give you the luxury of getting what you came here for – why I have to indulge your apparent selfishness for coming here unannounced and looking like I owe you a goddamn thing, when we both know I owe you nothing! Come on, Ohno-san, humor me,”   
  
Damn it, how the hell is he supposed to answer that? “So, are you going to just stand there and say nothing? Aren’t you going to tell me why you have to open my composition book that day when you know you’re not supposed to? There’s even a reason why the word CONFIDENTIAL is branded all over it, and you know it, don’t you? You know what that means and yet you still went ahead and read it,” Nino calmly continues, as if he knows he’s pushing the right buttons by keeping that tone on him instead. He doesn’t know when the situation turns completely around but he guesses it’s his fault anyway.   
  
He’s shaking something bad, fingers trembling as he sputters, “That’s  _not_  the point!” he spits, knows that he’s no longer making sense even to himself, and even the reason why he’s here in the first place suddenly feels quite unreal anymore; but he wants to still try because he wants to understand this thing that’s making him lose his balance eversince he’s learned about it, to get to the bottom of all these so he could stop this unfamiliar feeling from spiraling into something else he knows he wouldn’t be able to grab a hold of if he lets it get out of hand. His anger is seeping right out of him, spreading all over him like wildfire and he doesn’t even know how to stop it.  
  
“Then what is the  _point_?” Nino counters, and then he’s suddenly tearing himself away from the doorframe where he’s previously leaning back against, snatching his glasses and throwing it away before he is stepping back into the darkness of his apartment, hands flailing in annoyance. He’s worried about Nino accidentally stomping over it but he cares more about his anger right now to even properly warn Nino about the dangers of throwing things around like that.  He’s not sure why but he’s stepping forward as if on autopilot and reaching over to block the door before it closes behind Nino, stepping into Nino’s genkan and toeing his shoes off to follow Nino inside but not before closing the door firmly behind him.  
  
It is dark but not so much and he is able to maneuver himself pretty well without accidentally bumping into anything, feeling a little too numb to think what in hell he should do next.  
When he looks up, Nino is leaning against the nearest wall, arms crossed tightly over his chest; he wonders briefly whether following Nino inside is a good idea, but he takes another look at Nino and knows that Nino prefers this better.   
  
“What is the point, Leader?” Nino repeats quietly now, and he knows Nino is trying to keep his voice low, his tone flat, but outright failing because his voice quivers pitifully at the last word. “Please enlighten me because I don’t think I’m seeing things clearly,” Nino says and he sounded very, very tired. “You want me to tell you if I wrote those songs for you? Is that it? Is that what you came here for? Do you want me to confirm your suspicions for you? Well, okay then,” Nino pauses here, locks his gaze on him and says, “ _YES._  Everything you read in there is true, from the first page down to the last. I wrote them all with you in mind – the songs and the thoughts I have while I was writing them. So what? Were you upset because it was me? And what if not? Would it make such a huge difference if, say, that stupid thing belongs to Sho-chan, or Jun, or Aiba-chan – would you also go through such trouble as to coming into their apartments unannounced to demand answers out from them? Tell me, Leader, because I don’t think I know what the problem here is!” Nino demands, frustrated.  
  
He doesn’t know what to say, either, so he kept quiet.    
  
“You said you wanted answers, you said you wanted to know if it was true that I wrote those songs for you, but are you sure that’s the only thing you want from  _me_? From  _this_?” Nino’s voice is coming out pained-sounding now, and he’s not sure whether he’d want to still go through with this. Nino’s hands are shaking while he hugs himself, looking small and fragile as he lets the wall behind him support him from literally falling down.  
  
“I don’t even know why, but does knowing it means everything has to change? For you, for me, for the both of us – does everything have to change just because you learned I  _was_  in love with you? Is it because it is hard, seeing me everyday knowing that I had this thing for you and you can’t return them? Maybe it is hard, for you but not for me, Leader, because I know how to deal with it, and I’ve been handling myself perfectly well for years now, haven’t I?”  
  
He swallows thickly. “Nino – it’s not –“  
  
“You were obviously after something I’ve known all along and you think that should make a difference? That you don’t know something that has been there from the start, just right under your nose! So, is that it? You can’t deal with the frustration, is that it? You learned about it and now the frustration is almost too much that it’s keeping you up all night! And you think it’s hard? You think a few days of not getting enough sleep is hard? You think you can come in here and demand answers as if you have all right to do so?” Nino’s voice rings loud and certain and he’s practically vibrating with suppressed anger that he’s just about ready to explode any second now.    
  
“Well, fuck you!” Nino spits a curse right at him, and he finds himself staring wide-eyed at Nino, gaping and shocked. “There’s a fucking reason why I kept it a secret and that includes this,” Nino says, pointing his shaking fingers at the space between them as if he’s pointing at something so obvious. “So what if those songs are for you? Did you ever see me griping over the fact that I can’t have you? You ever heard me complain about how these stupid feelings I have for you hurt me more than it ought to? Did I do something about it enough to make you want to pull away completely as if I did the most unforgivable sin? So I was in love with you – so I wrote stupid songs for you, so what? I kept quiet, didn’t I? I never walked into your home and demand you to love me back because I know better! And yet, just a few days after you stupidly learned about the stupid truth about those stupid songs, here you are, demanding to know every details when you yourself already know what those are!”  
  
He gapes at Nino’s apparent outrage, wonders if he’s going with this wrongly afterall. “I –“ he pauses, and suddenly, he doesn’t know what he wants anymore. Nino looks pissed enough to beat him silly, but there’s something in the curl of Nino’s mouth that tells him this is equally difficult for Nino too.  
  
Then he sees it, the way Nino is trying desperately hard not to cry, the way he is blinking fast as if he is trying to focus his gaze into something, but he knows better; Nino’s hands are shaking too, so is Nino’s whole body and he thinks, _no_ , he knows it is going to be a hundred times harder to walk away from here now knowing that –  _fuck_  – he realizes he also want what Nino’s been wanting all these years, too.  
  
“You could have said something,” he whispers, finally, feeling the last of his strength leaving him as he looks down his feet, to his trembling hands and fingers which have found their way to gripping at his jeans, tight enough that he is sure his knuckles are completely white. “You could have at least – I don’t know, warned me? This is –“  _unexpected_  he wants to say, but he knows that that’s really not the case. This thing between them has been there longer than he could even remember, marking the end of their friendship and giving way to the start of something else without him realizing it.   
  
It has been there since he woke up one morning -- when exactly it is he couldn’t remember anymore -- with Nino curled around him, nose tucked against the hollow of his throat and breathing warm breathes against his neck, his arms tightly wounded around Nino’s waist, but he simply chose to ignore it because, well, he’s stupid like that.   
  
There’s no excuse, really; he could babble about nonsense things like following rules and fans’ reactions, but at the end of the day, those things mean nothing to him at all. Deep down inside, he knows what he wants, has been half-expecting some of the things he doesn’t dare admit to himself because he’s honestly afraid that he’s wrong to assume. But this -- he didn’t think it’d be this difficult to go past the awkwardness when everything has finally  been said and done, at least on Nino’s part.  
  
Because it is awkward, and he doesn’t need Nino to spell it out for him out loud because he’s not that dense; he came here looking for answers he was just too afraid to admit that he’s known all along, half-expecting Nino to go right into the heart of things and tell him what he needs to do after everything has been laid out in the open, after Nino’s eventually grown tired of humoring him and slapping the sense right into his face the way Nino’s supposed to.  
  
He doesn’t want to admit it but he was expecting Nino to lead him through this, just like Nino always does, to have Nino showing him the right path which he clearly hadn’t been able to see because he was too damn stupid to do so.  
  
“Y-You could have –“ he stammers and shakes his head, because it suddenly became too hard to put his thoughts into words now that Nino has stopped talking, and has simply resigned to keeping himself as still as possible. He pauses, because he suddenly realized he doesn’t know where he’s heading with this anymore, and honestly, he needs Nino to steer him into the right direction before he steps forward and loses his balance again.   
  
“I could have,” Nino says, after a long beat, the fury in his voice is gone and is replaced with something so soft, a tad resigned. He smiles when he looks up, wonders if this is how it feels exactly to be griping at something you thought you have no right to gripe about but realized you have every right to in the end, anyway.   
  
His chest feels like an overinflated balloon, and he’s pretty sure there’s a smug kind of grin blooming at the corners of his mouth to go along with it too. Well, it’s not like he could exactly help it, but, so okay, he couldn’t help it, but only because Nino’s locked his gaze on him and hasn’t looked away eversince.   
  
  
“Yes,” he mumbles, nibbles on his lower lip as Nino’s eyes tracks his movements, looking as thoughtful as ever. “Yes, you could have,” he repeats, as if his words and Nino’s aren’t enough for him to believe that this is really happening.  
  
Nino says nothing for a little bit longer, then shakes his head when the silence between them already becomes unbearable. “Maybe,” Nino mutters without heat, and it’s all he could do not to cross that distance and take Nino in his arms. “- but I was afraid something like this will happen, and it did, see? You found out and what did you do? You distanced yourself from me as if I somehow acquired some kind of deadly disease,” Nino adds the last bit with another thoughtful gleam in his eyes, but without looking away.   
  
“Well, it goes without saying that I’m kind of an idiot,” he tells Nino, briskly, wanting nothing but to walk the rest of the way to Nino, so he could take Nino’s face in between his hands and look at Nino’s face closely, but he stops himself short from doing that. From here on, everything will be on Nino’s terms – at least until he’s sure he’s not about to fuck things up between them more than he already has. “But also because I think it was the element of surprise, I guess; it’s not everyday you find something as shocking as this, most especially when everything about your life hasn’t been as easy as a breeze. It’s not like I don’t want it, or this, whatever the hell this is, it’s just that, you know – y-you and me, we’re like the best of friends, and finding out that somehow your bestfriend feels more something for you –“ he pauses here, realizes that that’s got to be the longest he’s ever said in his life, but finds that it’s not as difficult as he thought it’d be. Nino says what needs to be said and well, it’s his turn now.  
  
“ – makes everything a little complicated?” Nino finishes his sentence for him, smiling faintly and he nods.   
  
“Complicated, only because instead of tackling the subject, we tiptoed around it, avoided it as if it will mysteriously go away if we let it. Well, I think we were both used to letting fate take us to wherever it leads us, just like what we’ve been stupidly doing in the past, but I guess I got tired of doing it – of letting things pass through while wondering what could have been if I stopped it from passing through. When I saw the dedications on your composition book, I’m not sure but I’m pretty certain something inside me suddenly clicked into place though I still didn’t want to admit it then, that it made me want to shout something out loud though I’m not sure what it was. But even then, I was sure I had been expecting you to make things easier for me – for the both of us – that I was foolishly thinking you would eventually corner me when I least expects it and you will clear all these doubts away, the way you always do. But then I realized you would rather kept it a secret, that even after you realized I was already aware about your feelings, you chose to shut me out and stood your ground as if loving me was the most terrible thing you have ever done, and honestly, it made me angry. It pissed me off that you would rather confess to the book and not to me, that you’d rather spend your days staring at my back instead of saying something to my face. And the songs – god, you don’t know how many times I’ve listened to all your songs that I could practically sing them now without looking at the lyric sheets, and  _shit_ , Nino, please say something,” he backtracks, terrified at the way Nino is looking at him, mouth agape and his eyes as wide as a pair of saucers.   
  
A few minutes passes without either of them saying anything until Nino shifts, then sighs, as if he’s resigned to his fate but Ohno could tell he looks anything but. There’s even a faint smile spreading across Nino’s lips and he wonders if it is alright to brush his knuckles against that smile, to know how it feels as it melts beneath his palm.   
  
But to do that, he has to cross the small distance between them and gets to where Nino is, without tripping on his own two feet, without stumbling on the floor face-first with how badly he is shaking right now.   
  
To his credit, the next time he looks up Nino seems honestly relieved and the shadows in his eyes are gone. Nino is also walking towards him, footsteps sure though a bit wobbly and he thinks he could literally see his life unfolding right in front of him when Nino’s finally close enough to hold, so he does.  
  
He reaches for Nino’s hands and takes them in between his own, mindful of the way his hands are shaking when Nino lets him, lets him, lets him; and then finally they are face to face, closer than ever before that he could literally breathe the air leaving Nino’s mouth, and smiling at the sight of Nino’s blushing cheeks.  
  
“You really are an idiot,” Nino mutters putting as much heat as he could in his tone but the way he is lifting their tangled hands to brush an affectionate stroke across his cheek completely contradicts this. He smiles and leans into the touch, planting himself firmly against the wall as Nino closes in on him and moves closer still. “And I don’t know why I’m in love with you,”  
  
He grins at this, pleased. “Say that again,” he says, low and husky, lets one of Nino’s hands go in favor of gliding his palm along the curve of Nino’s waist before settling his hand down the small of Nino’s back. “Nino,”  
  
“I’m in love with you and I don’t know why,” Nino says, voice void with heat and in its place something he is sure he wouldn’t get tired of hearing. He’s not sure if this is okay, if the transition between friends to something  _else_ – something  _more_  is always like this, something like a rollercoaster ride of emotions, but he doesn’t care.  
  
“Well, we have already established that fact,” he says, proud; “anything else?”   
  
Nino hums, and for once he sounded like he wants nothing but to keep holding onto him, like the way Nino is clutching at his hand and forearms aren’t evidence enough that he’s wanted this and he’s wanted this bad. “It’s probably because you’re a jerk and an asshole rolled into one, but I can’t be sure,”  
  
He laughs, happy and giddy as he pulls Nino towards him until they’re nose to nose. “I’m glad you’re not using the past tense thing now,” he whispers, moves closer to nose at Nino’s jaw; Nino in turn, shivers against him and tilts his head to give him better access even though he is frowning. “Well, ‘cause earlier you mentioned ‘ _I was in love with you’_ and I thought, shit, so it’s past tense now? Does it mean he doesn’t love me anymore?”  
  
Nino shakes his head again, and the movement slightly disrupts his lips’ intention to draw little circles against Nino’s jaw, and he tsks, touché annoyed. “As I said, an _idiot_ ,” Nino counters before Nino is tilting his head a little to the right and catching his lips into a chaste kiss, and  _oh_ , this is so much better.   
  
Nino draws back with an almost sheepish smile and he growls, following Nino’s retreating mouth and drawing him back in. He takes Nino’s bottom lip in between his teeth, tugs at it slightly until he hears the little hitches on Nino’s breath, the way Nino lets his hand go in favor of worming his arms around his neck to pull him closer.  
  
And then somehow they are kissing each other feverishly, their first real kiss after those playful kisses they shared in the past, tasting each other’s mouth by way of sucking at each other’s tongues. Nino is shy to let him in at first, but gasps sharply when he holds Nino’s head steady and plunges his tongue inside without preamble, growling into Nino’s mouth as he sucks Nino’s tongue eagerly.  
  
When they break apart, he is pretty sure he is looking at an entirely different Nino, who is glowing prettily despite the semi-darkness, his lips red and swollen, his pupils blown wide; he is pretty certain he looks exactly the same, grinning despite that huge urge to catch Nino’s mouth in his again and kiss Nino until they could no longer breathe.   
  
Nino smiles at him and he feels Nino sliding his fingers through his hair, drawing him closer and dropping a tiny kiss against the tip of his nose. It’s too easy to get lost to this, to the familiar feeling of everything that is Nino, as if he is practically breathing Nino in with every single breath he takes. He wonders how he is able to live without this for so long, and grateful for that one stupidity on his part that brought them together like this in the end.   
  
“It’s still early,” Nino leans in and whispers, breathing warm breathes against the sensitive skin of his ear; “You want to get some sleep or you want me to call you a cab so you can go home and -” he says in an almost conspiratorial tone that has him gasping for breath as heat travels from his toes and up his spine.  
  
“Is that an invitation or shall I treat that as one?” he whispers back, husky, wanting nothing more than feel Nino’s body close to him all night, if he could.   
  
“Don’t be stupid,” Nino says as he starts to nip at his jaw, sharp little teeth digging into his chin when he throws his head back and pushes his hips forward; Nino gasps, then laughs in wonderment, arms going tight around him. “Who wants to sleep with an asshole like you?” Nino says and then giggles when he reaches down and pinches Nino’s hip, bending his ankles and leaning up to catch Nino’s mouth into another searing kiss, hands on either side of Nino’s head to keep him firmly in place.   
  
Nino kisses him back with equal intensity, like he’s putting all of those frustrating years into this one kiss, holding onto him like nothing matters but him and Nino, and it is enough. It’s a wonderful feeling, something that words aren’t enough to describe how amazing it is, as he holds Nino close to him and breathes his happiness against Nino’s mouth.   
  
“Charming,” he says, kissing Nino again as Nino wrenches them away from the wall and leads them inside without letting him go. “I’m not sure why but I think that is also one of the few reasons why I am in love with you,” he confesses, and smiles at how easy it is to say those words now.  
  
“Well, it’s no wonder when I’m always loveable and charming and good-looking and all sorts of amazing,” Nino boasts, beaming from ear to ear and he finds himself laughing hard, as Nino carefully steers them both to the direction of his bedroom. It’s a wonder how they didn’t even manage to bump into anything what with the way they are curled around each other while they’re walking, not to mention the fact that Nino hasn’t even bothered to turn on the lights before he maneuvers them forward but he guesses that’s another thing he could add up into ‘why Nino is amazing’ list.    
  
“Right, and I sort of just realized that now, forgive me,” he jokes, half-hearted at best because he’s immediately crowding Nino once they are both inside the privacy of Nino’s bedroom, toeing the door close and nosing at Nino’s cheek as he does so. He reaches up to tangle his fingers against Nino’s hair, feeling a little light-headed when Nino tilts his head and brushes his nose against his, soft and affectionate. He leans down and presses a kiss against the side of Nino’s mouth, lingering, then chanting, “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” mostly against Nino’s mouth and gets an answering shiver that makes his pulse jump, his throat dry.  
  
“Alright, alright – I heard you the first three times, jeez,” Nino whines and slaps a palm over his mouth to apparently shut him up, blushing furiously red as he does so; he’s so happy it is almost ridiculous, humming against Nino’s palm and offering Nino a playful wink before he parts his mouth and licks a wet stripe across Nino’s skin. Nino’s eyes narrows, but the way he is biting his lower lip means the action is not an unwelcomed one.  
  
Still, he doesn’t want to push his luck just yet, because for all the good that things has turned out into, everything’s still pretty new and really, no matter how confident he thought he is, jumping straight to bed with Nino is kind of a little extreme for his heart to handle right now.  
  
“Nino –“   
  
“Sleep?” Nino inquires and he doesn’t even attempt to stop himself from laughing, happy and content, because this at least is familiar, Nino finishing his thoughts for him and knowing him better than anyone else.   
  
He hums back and leans in forward again to nuzzle his nose against Nino’s cheek, and feels the press of Nino’s mouth against the side of his temple.  
  
“Yeah,” he says, wondering when this giddy feeling will go away, or if it ever will; he wishes it won’t because he’s so happy and it is a feeling he doesn’t normally feel, at least when it comes to relationships, on sappy matters concerning the heart. “Sleep is good,”   
  
Nino knows him too well, as always, meeting his lips halfway when he leans in for a kiss.  
  
“Come on, then,” Nino says, tangling their fingers together. “Satoshi,”  
  
He smiles, tugs their joined hands and brings them to his lips as he presses his mouth against the back of Nino’s knuckles, following Nino as Nino leads them to the bed. It’s okay, like this, because he is sure he and Nino are going to work things out somehow. They’ve already admitted their feelings, and it’s a start --  he’ll sleep next to Nino this time with a smile and knows that when he wakes up, Nino will still be there.  
  
Nino slides under the covers and tugs him down, lifting the covers over the both of them as he does so; then there’s nothing but Nino’s warmth and Nino’s scent around him, chuckling under his breath as Nino starts shifting around to find his preferred position until there’s practically no distance between them, but it’s still okay –  more than a little amazing, really.  
  
He rests his arms around Nino’s waist and makes sure Nino is as close as he could get him, mouthing against the side of Nino’s temple and letting the flutter of Nino’s eyelashes against his cheek loll him to sleep.  
  
It’s a tight fit like this, with his arms around Nino and Nino hugging himself close to him, but it’s enough.  
  
“Stay close,” he whispers as sleep slowly claims him, smiles when Nino fingers his collars and kisses his chin. He gets a mouthful of Nino’s hair but it’s still okay, mumbling incoherently and then rubbing his nose against the crown of Nino’s head when Nino shifted to bury his face firmly against the crook of his neck.  “Don’t let me lose you again,” he murmurs, barely notices the way Nino shivers against him and squeezes himself closer still.  
  
“You won’t,” he thinks he hears Nino say, but he couldn’t be sure; he just holds Nino and holds him tight, drifting far and far as Nino’s warmth stays. “I promise, you won’t,”  
  
He smiles and takes that as another promise they would soon start giving each other, presses his lips into Nino’s hair one more time and drifts off.


End file.
